Harry Potter and the Army of Darkness
by Lord Decay
Summary: A sixth year fic which concentrates on the wizarding world at war, and the Boy Who Lived, who is mourning the death of his godfather. After Voldemort revealed himself in the Ministry, he further reveals what he has been doing lying low for an year... On a


**Harry Potter and the Army of Darkness**

**By _Lord Decay_**

**Prologue: Hell, Heaven and Heliopaths **

_Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: he was laughing at her. "Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room. The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest. The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock. Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore, too, turned towards the dais. It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch. Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfathers wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind, then fell back into place. Harry heard Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing — Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear from the other side any second..._

Sirius Black was falling sideways in a dark space, which seemed to have neither a beginning nor an end. He wanted to go, to Harry, to Remus, to Tonks, to Bellatrix, but he couldn't. He had fallen into the Veil of Death, and…

"Wait a minute – am I really dead?" he asked himself. He could move his limbs, he still had his wand in hand, but he was pulled, drawn automatically, as though he was Summoned, albeit slowly. He kicked his legs, but to no avail. "Where am I? Where am I going? Is this where all dead come to?" he asked himself.

Death had always fascinated Sirius Black. When he was in Azkaban, in the dark, gloomy, damp cell, he would wonder if it was better to die. He could see James and Lily again, which was much, much better than drawing brooms in the green moss-covered walls. But if he died, how would he see Harry again? The day he was brought to Azkaban, he steeled himself to face the situation. One day, he would be out of the prison, and would take care of his godson, just like his best friends, James and Lily. The thoughts of James's crooked grin, Lily's caring, smiling face, baby Harry's innocent smiles, Remus' expression when he screwed up his face in concentration… these thoughts were what kept Sirius alive with his mind intact in his high-security prison cell in Azkaban. However, there was one memory, one single memory that actually kept him smiling. Yes, it is impossible to keep a prisoner smiling in Azkaban, because even those who went mad while in Azkaban never smiled or laughed— they cried and screamed out of terror and mental agony. Thanks to the Dementors, even the aurors who visited the prison never had a smile on their faces. But what memory was it? That memory was the most powerful one he had; the positive energy it possessed was enough to keep the Dementors from him. It was love. The love he had for his godson. He could still recall the memory vividly...

_Sirius was sprawled across a comfortable sofa lined with purple velvet. He was not in his human form, however. The dog was playing ball with baby Harry Potter. The baby was teething and learning to speak. He was not able to speak coherently yet, but his parents and Sirius were immensely proud of his "Goo!" and "Ga!" While the black dog was distracted, the baby threw the ball with slightly greater force at the dog's face. The dog whimpered, its face screwed up, rubbing its nose with its paws. Young Harry began to giggle softly. "Doggy" he called out. The dog stopped. "Doggy" said the soft voice once again. The dog blinked, and transformed into a man, his face disbelieving. He kissed Harry on the forehead and ran up the nearby stairs, slamming open a closed teak door._

_"James, you'll never believe what just happened! Harry talked!" Sirius shouted, with his eyes on a young man with round glasses, immersed in a pile of parchment."_

_"File a report Padfoot, I'll make sure Amelia sends a team of aur— wait a sec...What did you just say?"_

_"Harry talked."_

_"You're serious?" the young man asked, with a face that was rapidly changing expressions from puzzlement to delight "WOW! That's great! So, what was the first word he said? Mummy? Daddy? SIRIUS?"_

_Sirius was still smiling._

_"Tell me, what was it? Don't tell me it was Snivellus - or worse, I suppose, Vold—"_

_"Doggy" Sirius said, still smiling._

_"Doggy?" James asked, disbelieving._

_"SIRIUS BLACK, YOU LUCKY DOG!" James shouted, "I ENVY YOU!" _

_With his trademark crooked grin returning, he asked, "Have you told Lily yet?" _

_"No mate, you were the one nearby, Lily left to buy groceries some twenty minutes ago."_

_"I think I'll apparate over to tell her. Mate, you know what? This calls for a big party!" James exclaimed, obviously excited by the news. He grinned and vanished with a POP" _

He was shaken out of his stupor by a sense of light. The space in which he was falling was slowly brightening. Sirius looked around to find the source of light, to find a swirling vortex, out of which blinding white light seeped into the dark space. To his horror, he was falling faster, and the vortex was getting larger and larger. "It can't harm a dead person, can it?" That was the last thought in his mind before he fell through the vortex.

When he opened his eyes, he was laying face down on a sky-blue floor. He shakily got to his feet, and saw he was in a circular room, with white walls, and a form wearing a hooded silver cloak that covered him from head to toe standing near a corridor. Instinctively, he raised his wand.

"Put it down; your magic does not work here," declared a voice. The voice, which he assumed belonged to the man in the cloak, was a crisp, business-like voice, implying a sense of command and authority over the listener.

Who are you?" Sirius asked, but he was never answered.

"Sirius Orion Black from Great Britain?"

"Yes."

"Sent through the Veil unwillingly by Bellatrix Dorea Black-Lestrange of Great Britain?"

"Yes."

"Come with me."

He followed the man through a broad, brightly lit hallway with the same white walls as the circular room to a set of golden double doors. As soon as he reached them, they opened themselves. He stepped through them, not suspecting that he was in for a shock.

He was in a large field, covered with short, neatly clipped grass, blades dancing in the rippling wind. "Perfect conditions for Quidditch," he thought. He missed flying and Bludgers. He recalled beating Bludgers away from James towards the Slytherin Keeper, watching him dodge it and consequently allowing the Quaffle through the hoop, the crowd cheering his and James' names, especially the female part of it. His face fell as he realized that he had not done that for nearly twenty years, nor could he anymore.

Turning to his left, he saw he was not alone. A golden throne was in the middle of the breadth, towards the west end of the field. The man who brought him here stood near the throne, along with a person identical to himself it, apparently waiting for Sirius to finish reminiscing.

"The room changes itself to the likes of the person present."

He heard the same voice, although his instincts told him it was the man on the throne who spoke. "You seem to have several questions."

"Who are you?"

"The Greeks call me Thanatos and Hades. The Romans call me Libitina, Tarpeia, Larenta, Naenia, Vediovis and Mania. The Indians knew me as Yama. Americans and Europeans, as Satan or simply, The Devil. But these are all just names. I am simply the spirit of death and afterlife."

"What is this place, anyway? People imagine Hell to be filled with fire and monsters -"

"There is nothing called Heaven or Hell," he interrupted. "This place is the Realm of Souls, where all souls exist, governed by us spirits."

"What will I be doing here, now that I am dead?"

The man started laughing. It was warm and natural laughter, as though he was truly enjoying himself.

"Do you know what death is, Sirius?" he asked, as though talking to an old friend.

"No."

"Then let me explain. Death is defined by us spirits as the irreversible phenomenon of the inability of a soul to occupy a body. That ability is characterized by the function of heart and heart beats."

"Is that what the Killing curse does? It stops the heart?"

"Excellent – you are learning fast, aren't you?"

"And I'm not dead, right?"

"Not yet, no, but you are – now!" the man – or, rather, the spirit – exclaimed as he pointed his fingers, still masked by the cloak, towards Sirius. He felt like he was seizing up, being lifted up in the air, and a muffled thud. He opened his eyes to see himself, his body, on the grass. He looked at his hands, which had turned pearly white, translucent, like a ghost.

"So… so, I'm a soul right now?" asked Sirius.

"Yes, and a singular soul, to be precise."

"A what?" he asked, bewildered.

The man recited: "A singular soul is defined by us spirits as a soul that has undergone a single life cycle"

"A single life cycle? You mean I get more than one? When do I take my next life cycle?" he asked curiously.

"Ah, that brings us to our next topic. Namely, the punishment. You see Mr. Black, every good action a person does adds one year to what is known as a soul's 'good-count', and every bad action adds one to the 'bad-count'. From the moment you leave the body, you have a very strong desire to return as a mortal being. This feeling may be uncontrollable sometimes, but without my permission, no soul may do so. You will suffer this feeling for the bad-count years. This mental torture of the strong urge to do something, together with the inability to do so, is your punishment. After this period is over, the feeling remains no more, and you can enjoy your life as a soul, until the good-count years are over, or, you can return to life anytime you wish."

"So how many years do -"

"Now, the verdict – Mr. Sirius Orion Black from Great Britain, sent through the Veil unwillingly by Bellatrix Dorea Black-Lestrange of Great Britain, shall be spending fifty years being punished, and three hundred seventy two years as a happy soul. Owing to his high good-count, his next life-form will be a Dragon."

"Cool! A dragon!" Sirius exclaimed happily, but his face fell. "Fifty years of punishment? How can I ever face James and Lily again?"

"When a person who loves you is in danger, he can incorporate your energy into the spells that he casts, indirectly summoning you to him, and thereby amplifying the energy of the spell by the energy of the bond of love and affection, which is the ultimate power. This is how you can support your loved ones, even as a soul."

"Do not worry Mr. Black; you have several facilities here to spend your time at. Your friends James and Lily Potter's souls are also present here. Also, whenever you need to see someone in the mortal world, all you need to do is to think of his or her name and you will be able to see what he or she is doing."

"All right! I can't wait to see them again!" Sirius exclaimed, and looked around for an exit, to find one magically appear before him. "But what will you do with my body?"

"Oh, that's simple." The man raised his hand, and a giant creature appeared before him, which looked like a horse with a distorted, evil face. Powerful waves of flame emanated from it. In a nutshell, it was a Beauxbatons' horse on fire. It raised long tail, swished it in a circle. The body disappeared in a whoosh of flames, and so did the creature.

"Was – was that a – a Heliopath?" Sirius asked, his face disbelieving, "But they don't exist!"

"And what else doesn't exist, Mr. Black?"

"Richosins, Compacatches, Snow Dragons—"

"Perhaps I should introduce you to Daisy; she could clear your doubts."

"And Daisy is..." Sirius said, dreading the answer.

"The queen of Ur-Basilisks," the man said in a dramatic tone, waiting for the soul's reaction.

Sirius had read about Ur-Basilisks in _1001 Mythological Creatures_. Two hundred feet long snakes of nearly five meters in diameter, with a deadly aura that extended upto ten kilometers.

"An Ur-Basilisk named DAISY? You are worse than Hagrid!" Sirius said fervently; he threw open the door in front of him and stepped through, to his first day as a soul, grinning madly at the spirit's echoing laughter behind him.


End file.
